Amelioration
by Little Inquisitor
Summary: n. The act of making something better; improvement. / A series of one-shots based on 100 themes for RoyAi. In saying that, chapters may contain spoilers, so you've been warned. / 5 - Fairy Tale - "Tell me, Lieutenant, how often does a knight in charming armour swoop in to save a damsel-in-distress from the big, bad dragon?"
1. Blink

**A/N:** Something short to start this thing off. I don't know if it'll be a weekly thing or randomised, but we'll all see once we take into consideration of just how finicky my muse and creativity can be. But! Please enjoy this first theme!

* * *

Blink.

Blink, and you'll miss it.

Blink, and you'll miss the hidden gazes; the wandering eyes to which will not stop until they find each other.

Blink, and you'll miss the slight curvature of lips; a corner lifting upwards here, a grin showing itself there.

Blink, and you'll miss the way a hand grazes the other's; a form of tingling warmth left across their skin.

Blink, and you'll miss the yearning in his heart; the need to touch her, to hold her as if there was no tomorrow left to be lived through. So close, and yet so far, she is from him, but there is barely a thing he can do in order to close the distance between them. Temptation lies within the depths of his being, his chest aching whenever she is at arms' reach; ever so proper, ever so strict, he knows that she will not allow him - or herself, for that matter - a small moment of weakness.

Blink, and you'll miss the love in her eyes; the acknowledgement and respect for his ever-constant presence in her life. It has been over a decade since she opened the door and was met by a young boy, whom has since then grown to become a man with a dream. In the dream she first believed in, which in turn, led her to believing in the man himself. And with that, she keeps the promise they made so long ago; she keeps him on his path as she protects his back, her focus never wavering. After all, she'd follow him to hell if he were to ask her to.

Blink, and you'll miss the small details that they have saved for each other through the years. Unless you are truly paying attention, the tell-tales are so minute that no one outside their circle has truly grasped the importance of having them together. Most believe that it is a case of a lazy leader who cannot work without a sitter, others think of harsher concepts that are best unsaid when they're in proximity. Although, if you were to ask those who follow him with utmost loyalty, they would merely shrug with a smile - more questions are asked rather than answered, all the while.

You have been told numerous times to not blink if you don't want to miss it, but it was only recently when you understood what they meant by the advice; for the actions are nothing too grand, albeit subtle enough to hold a meaning that are of importance to the two of them, and them alone. Still, you continue to observe in silent wonder, knowing that it is better to do so than point it out loudly, placing unwanted attention on not only yourself, but also on the two people who value the concealed gazes, secret smiles, and unseen contact.

So to the next person who comes along, you repeat the words as if they were a secret whispered into a gentle breeze.

"Blink, and you'll miss it."


	2. Seeking Solace

**A/N:** Finished this one a bit earlier than I expected, so I thought _'maybe I should just post it now rather than have it sitting on the desktop until next week'_. Also thank you to xnite05 for the review for the first chapter! Honestly made my day and I hope that what I've written for this theme doesn't disappoint!

* * *

In the dark was where they often found solace, basking within the heat of a tight embrace, the sound of each other's breathing music to their ears in the silence.

After a night filled with nightmares haunting the lands of their dreams, one of them was bound to wake in a fit and gasp for air. Years ago, they would have had no form of comfort albeit for the quietude of their rooms; far from each other, and alone with their frantic thoughts. But since the events of the Promised Day, the two individuals have found that the tendrils of torment were easily fought whenever they were together.

Just like during that one midspring night.

Dreaded memories came to play with the dormant guilt that lived in the depths of Roy's mind; the fear of losing the woman whom he had lay with that night, brushed against the confines of his chest. He remembered it clearly in his sleep, the sight of her blood pooling beneath her, covering the circumference of the transmutation circle she was forcefully set down on. He recalled the panic that ran through his veins, his vision turning red in wrath - if he were not held back by the mindless men of the golden-tooth doctor, he would have had set inferno upon them right there and then. But by god, did he dwell on his uselessness that time, his heart shattering as his other half held onto her dear life. She was dying, her life was escaping through the gaps between her fingers and yet she tried to console _him_ by saying that she was not going to die.

In his dream, however, no voice but his was heard after such a quote. He screamed for her, he screamed at them. He struggled to break free; only to be forced to watch as the light in the gaze he came to love, gradually disappeared with every passing second. And just like that, she was gone and he could not differentiate reality from fantasy because he was just so trapped, darkness engulfing him all over again, as it once did when he had lost his sight on that very same day.

And then he woke with a sharp intake of breath, his heart beating loudly in his ears, his lungs feeling as if they were being filled for the very first time. He remained still, distressed due to the memory that needed to be forgotten alongside many others. Nevertheless, he used the time to organise his shaken thoughts in the tranquillity he was surrounded by. Though before he managed to fully comprehend that all was nothing but a nightmare, there was a shift of movement to his left and an arm was soon placed across his torso. A body of warmth snuggled into him, a leg intertwining with his just as a sigh whispered against the crook of his neck.

"You were talking in your sleep again." Came the words ever so quietly, patience being the defining tone used. He didn't bring himself to reply, and instead wrapped his own arm around her back until he grasped her clothed shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze, reality becoming of him with this small scene of domesticity.

Of course, she was alive.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Was what he finally said after a moment's while, dropping a kiss just above her hairline.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I'm okay," Roy took a short pause then, air easing out of his chest whilst he turned his entire form and hugged the other into a full embrace, "You're okay."

And just like that, Riza understood him. She offered no words of comfort after, but with the hand that had been stuck in between them, she touched his cheek and rubbed a calloused thumb just below his closed eye. At her touch, he held onto her tighter as his contemplation slowly surpassed the line of serenity. As solace was sought and found, tenebrosity was chased away with the most simplest of acts.


	3. Photograph

If there was one thing that everyone's noticed about the lieutenant, it was the aspect that she was barely one for jewellery. In all of the years that they've known her, they have only ever actually seen her wear nothing more than the silver studs that were pierced into both of her earlobes. In fact, rumour had it that they were a gift from a certain man whom they all followed; although like any stories that usually involved the private matters between the two, the case remained unconfirmed.

Though little did they know, under the layers of uniform that the lieutenant faithfully wore to work every day, a tiny locket was clasped around her neck apart from her dog tags.

It was a small thing, no bigger than one's thumb. It was, however, big enough to fit a rare photo. Again, nobody - with the exception of the giver - knew about this locket, this hidden secret she kept so close to her heart at all times. She wore it day in and day out, thinking of it as something sort of a remnant from a childhood lost long ago. It was also of simple oval design; nothing too fancy or extravagant, her initials outlined on its cover, whereas the back was merely embellished with a soft flowery decoration in note of femininity. Its texture was smooth against her milky skin, light in comparison to the weight she often had on her shoulders. There were even days when she would suddenly wonder whether she had put it on that morning, her hand immediately going against the space of her chest in search for its shape beneath her uniform. If any of the men were paying attention to her during times like these, they would most likely have noticed the way relief plays within the amber hues of her eyes, a breath released slowly but surely, and the hint of a smile taking its place upon her lips.

Who knew that a locket described with naught but the word 'simplicity' could be regarded with high importance. Then again, all the casing did was to protect what was hidden in the inside.

* * *

The first time she did not wear the ornament for days, was during her stay at the hospital.

After the check-up and the clean-up of her wounds, her used clothes were folded neatly and placed into a brown paper bag; the locket safely placed into a small pouch on top of her items. As she wasn't able to wear it during the first week at the hospital ( _it will be a hassle when it comes to changing the bandages_ , the nurses told her, _and it is safer if it remains in the bag. Don't worry, Lieutenant._ ), it was difficult for her to ignore the fact that something had been missing from her person.

Every once in a while, her hand would go to her bandaged neck and those who came to visit would brush it off as her just thinking of the recent battle. And when they asked whether she felt any pain, the woman merely shook her head in reassurance that she was all right, and that it was just hard to not feel the cloth. They seemed to understand her, of course, dropping most of their worries right there and then, all the while her mind wandered to the paper bag at the corner of the room

* * *

But at some point, the secret of the locket was somewhat revealed.

It had happened during her fourth day in the shared room with the colonel, the current members of the team gathered around them as they discussed the plans for the future. Even with the obstruction of their leader's lost of sight, none of them failed to perceive the fire that remained unvanquished internally; determination radiating off of him wholeheartedly. Having had shifted his focus away from the role of leading a country, he settled on simply rebuilding the land of Ishval as best as he could, deeming it to be his responsibility to do so.

And in the midst of the discussion, Breda leaned his weight back against the edge of the table and pushed the bag off unknowingly.

Silence had spread throughout the room, all attention going to the small sack that had skid across the floor and lay bare in the middle of the space. Nevertheless, the Second Lieutenant apologised not a moment too late, picking up the fallen items. But when he took the pouch from the floor, the silver locket slid out of its confines through the loose opening, raising curiosity amongst them.

"Oh? Never took you one to having something like this, Lieutenant." Breda said, picking up the necklace with an inquisitive gaze in pure wonder. Fuery took a step closer towards him in the meantime, the same expression nearly plastered across his youthful appearance. Hawkeye, however, chose to remain silent as her eyes caught onto the item, that ache on top of her chest making itself known once again, only to be damped down by the feel of the cut against her neck.

"Have what?" It was the colonel's turn to speak up.

"The lieutenant has a locket." Fuery answered, examining the piece held up by the other officer.

"Oh?"

"It's nothing relatively special, you can put it away now, Breda." Her voice may have been quiet, but every single tone of firmness was very well heard. In respect to her privacy (and the matter of the fact that it sounded entirely too similar to an order), the man was just about to put it away when the colonel raised his hand in a motion that said 'stop'.

"Wait, hand it over here for a minute."

Both Breda and Fuery looked over to Hawkeye in question, who had sighed before giving her consent. With that, Breda did as he was told and slowly placed the necklace onto the colonel's held out palm, letting the locket down first before having it followed by its chain. Then in what could have been said as a subtle act, the Roy Mustang behind the facade of a soldier and team leader came out.

There was a smile etched upon his tired features, his fingers playing with the locket- feeling its casing in the dark. Everyone watched him attentively, not a single word said. He held onto it for long, a chuckle released as he turned it from back to front, front to back, with a ghost of a grin soon making its appearance. So the men began to wait for a teasing remark, judging by the glint of mischief that they knew would have had appeared in his dark eyes were they not dulled.

It never came out.

"All right, you can put it away now," He said instead, and the locket was soon out of his hand, "Also, Breda, Fuery, mind getting me a sandwich or two? Honestly starting to feel hungry here."

The two glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, almost confused at the sudden request. Though without further ado, they shrugged their shoulders and saluted, all the while claiming that they were to be back soon.

They then stepped out and shut the door closed behind them, their superiors left all alone.

It was Roy who broke the silence.

"You've had that locket for a long time now, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." Was the response.

"How many years?"

A short pause.

"Thirteen years, I believe."

"It's been thirteen years, huh?" His voice dropped to that of solemnity, eyes casted downwards onto his hands on his lap. He was sat on the mattress with his feet tucked beneath his thighs; his posture slightly hunched in reflection of the ambience that had blanketed over them. He was relaxed nonetheless, memories playing themselves within the darkness of his mind before he spoke again.

"I thought you'd have lost that, actually."

"I may have lost a lot of things, but never that."

The reply certainly took him by surprise, if the shock expressed through widened eyes and mouth agape were anything to go by. At this, Riza could not help the smile that had soon curved against her lips; a smile that was known to be saved for him and him alone.

Somewhat hesitantly, Roy inhaled a deep breath and asked, "Does it still have the same picture or have you changed it?"

Riza shook her head as much as she could, careful of her neck, "No, it's still us."

"The one we took at the carnival?"

"Yes."

Tender warmth grew from his heart, grasping the entirety of his being into what felt like a gradual embrace in the cold. To think that she had kept it after all that time, after everything that had happened to them, around them, _with_ them, Roy mentally took a step back into contemplation, but not without a smile on his face. He turned to her, eyes open despite being unseeing. By God, how he wished to have been able to actually take in the sight of her. He knew, however, that she was propped up in her cot, her watchful gaze placed on him like always. He also knew that her hair was down, and that a pink cardigan was wrapped around her shoulders in offer of comfort. And lastly, he knew that even with the dressing around her neck, around whichever other parts of her body that were wounded during the final battle, she was beautiful.

She had always been beautiful, and that was something he never did deny.

Even when she had that short hair of hers thirteen years ago, her facial structure still round and plumped due to her baby cheeks, he thought of her as something along the lines of _cute_ and _pretty_. Of course there were times when he voiced those thoughts out loud, enjoying the hint of red that would have often bloomed across her face. She always did become shy once a compliment was heard, and he always did feel bold in doing so.

"Where has your mind wandered off to this time?" Her voice reached for him through the quiet, and he was more than glad to take hold of it.

"Just wishing that I could see you right now."

It was Riza's turn to be rendered speechless, her gentle smile widening in a way that mirrored the innocence of her childhood. She looked down, just as she did whenever she attempted to hide the expression from the very same man; more so during the rare moments between them, where the uniforms and ranks were shed, and they stood in a room as a pair of nobodies named Roy and Riza. It was also her way of maintaining the blush that threatened to tint her cheeks, to which had only led for her to release a sigh.

"God, you are such a sap, you know that?"

The deep sound of his laughter was what she received as an answer, followed by words she knew she would never tire of.

"For you? Always."


	4. Trust Me

**A/N:** So I was listening to this song that gave me the vibes, and then I saw the next theme. And so, it was only right for me to take that chance. However, I wouldn't have minded if someone had told me the difficulty of writing out the tango.

 **xnite05** : Thank you so much! I'm really glad that you're enjoying the stories so far!

* * *

His breath was a whisper on the shell of her ear; warmth spreading throughout her body just from his touch on the small of her back.

"You know you can trust me, Hawkeye," He started, "Just follow my lead."

As if she had ever done anything otherwise.

In the middle of the floor was where they stood, amongst the crowd of so many other couples. Hesitance was written in her posture, however, the lack of confidence making itself rather known. She may have been a skilled shooter, though she was far from being a skilled dancer. And yet no matter how much she protested as the man tugged on her arm earlier, he heard none of it.

The strings started to play their tune and she huffed, glaring at the other from behind the mask she wore.

He took a step forward, and her foot clashed with his.

A chuckle escaped his throat, echoing in her ear and she had to resist the urge to quiver.

Damn him.

"It'd help if you would relax, you know," The man started, his smirk heard by the judgement of the tone used, "And don't look down- it'll just distract you."

Without a word of reply, Riza took another deep breath, his ever so familiar cologne engulfing the entirety of her being. She paused then, maintaining her composure as she lifted her chin slightly, nearly brushing the contour of her jaw against his exposed cheek. She felt his sharp intake of breath, his grasp around her hand tightening just a tad.

She did not bring herself to grin at the reaction.

Then finally, on the reset of the beat that was accompanied by the piano, they truly began.

Her heels clicked on the marble flooring, her steps counted as her mind remained conscious of where they were placed and when they were to be moved. Besides that, she could barely ignore the way she was held against his form; so close the two were, the essence of intimacy being their ambience. There was the feel of the broadness of his chest in contact with hers, the span of his shoulder just underneath the palm of her hand. His fingers were around hers tenderly, as if she were made of glass.

He breathed out, she breathed in; he stepped out, she stepped in; they had soon fallen into a flow, and it soon became a routine that was entirely too familiar. They followed steps that they had done so many times before, years of experience flowing through her veins. But rather than having her watch his back, she merely observed the way he regarded her through the holes of his burgundy mask, failing to hide the enticement he thought her to be.

It was a silent note made, one that finally graced a smile upon her tinted lips. It was also at that moment when the man spun them in the midst of a stride forward, avoiding those who danced around them. Though with the way things were then, the crowd was quite forgotten and the music played for them alone.

She was light on her toes, nearly gliding around the floor as her partner led the dance. "Trust me," He had told her, so trust him she did.

Her left foot slid back as his right stretched forward, his arm settling itself just above her waist. He pulled her into him, keeping her steady all the while as he stepped back with the other. Somewhat unconsciously, she wrapped her leg around his, skin revealing itself through the slit of her dress. Exhilaration was caught in their eyes, his gaze darkening as their noses touched, although not quite. The music went on, and their position was straightened, distance non-existent. A quick glance to her mouth, and Riza could very well see the thin line that the man dangerously treaded on. She should have pulled away, knew to do that better than anyone else, but how could she? His hands left a burning sensation through the chiffon fabric of her dress—breathing nearly became a challenge.

A sharp turn in line with the changing note of the concertina, one they had flawlessly executed without reluctance or hesitation. The man smiled, looking at her with a glint of pride.

 _Charmer._

They motioned through momentum after momentum; freely moving around the space they were given. There was also the undeniable tension within the silence between them; eyes locked together throughout the passing of each second, minute—forever. However, time was of no heed and the two individuals merely basked in the closeness they shared; all in consideration of its rare occurrences.

 _One, two,_ he twirled her out, only to tug her back in not a second too soon. Their lips nearly grazed as they dared to turn their heads marginally, his temple resting against hers. She felt his fingers slide up her back, understanding what was to come next after a count of eight. But even so, she could not stop the shiver sent down her spine.

He dipped her backwards and she went along, knowing that she was more than safe in his arms.

After all, she trusted him as much as he trusted her.

She trusted him with so much more than this dance.

She felt his chest expand as he pulled her back up flushed against him. Emotions rode through the way he peered at her, and she could feel them all the way into her bones; the want, the need, the ecstasy of having the heat of her body coincide with his. Her curves, her edges, all beneath his touch, and she knew that he had wanted nothing more than to have her right there, right then. But what a lie it would have been if she were to deny the fact that she, too, mirrored all of those things as well.

Hers were said in the air she breathed out, in the manner of her heel inching its way up his calf smoothly as they rotated in a circle; she being the centre of gravity. It was so bold, an act so audacious that most would have questioned the clarity of her mind and of her thoughts.

Ultimately, the Riza Hawkeye that most knew would have never allowed herself to touch the sun, knowing the risks of losing her wings alongside being burnt. But she had been burnt before, and she was still burning in his hold, albeit the flame ignited inside of her was entirely different to the flames that had set her back alight. She hadn't so much minded the fire growing in her soul, readily embracing its warmth.

 _His_ warmth.

But that night, she was not the Riza Hawkeye most knew, and was simply the woman who fell in love with her father's student once upon a time.

The sound of the strings and bass continued on, the depth of piano keys drowning the murmurs and whispers amongst those who witnessed the bare performance of seduction. Unbeknownst to the two, so many had taken notice of them as they manoeuvred across the floor with what could have been nearly described as finesse. And it was such irony for a person who did not acknowledge herself as a fine dancer; who's only ever shown art through the use of guns and bullets. Numerous times she had claimed that dancing was not her forte, yet there she was, gathering attention unknowingly.

Romance filled the hall, as such was the aim of the orchestra that played for the night.

And perhaps it was also the aim of the Fuhrer, who requested the song to be played in the first place. No one really knew.

A step out as his reach stretched.

A turn.

Her back collided with his torso, his mouth so close to her ear once more.

He inhaled her scent, all the while caressing the smoothness of her arm; of her skin.

She exhaled.

The final musical note resonated in the air around them.


	5. Fairy Tale

**A/N:** In comparison to the tango in the previous chapter, this one's more... light and free. Won't lie, though, it was definitely inspired by Ed Sheeran's Perfect! Other than that, I apologise for the delay- was still recovering from the heavy angst that I wrote three weeks ago and I just kind of... flopped afterwards. But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one! Especially with that hint of EdWin!

* * *

There was always something so exhilarating when it came to sneaking away from a crowd, laughing hand-in-hand with the person who always managed to make your heart skip a beat. And although it was a strange concept to apply to two full-grown adults, it was certainly nothing that they were shy of. With smiles that reached their eyes, their chests swelling with merriment, and hearts all but hidden from one another, a witness could have said that they were very well drunk on pure bliss.

The night was young and the pure essence of joy filled the air amongst the crowd. Drinks were served, the hired band played loudly, and words of congratulations and teasing remarks were endlessly thrown at the newly-wedded couple. It was, for a better part, an event to be forever remembered and reminisced. After all, when the notion of the marriage was announced months before, nobody who knew them was surprised.

Who would have been if they were to consider the past between the couple; the endless support that the woman had provided for the man throughout his journey?

It was a love story often expected from fairy tales, and yet everyone witnessed it grow for as long as they had known the former alchemist.

As laughter reached his ears, Edward Elric watched the guests with content from where he sat at the front. His golden eyes shifted from table to table, taking in the sight of those he called family with a small smile on his face. In that moment then, he had fallen into deep reverie, his thoughts quiet in his head. But at the sudden feel of warmth in his left hand, he was pulled out and his attention was immediately placed onto the wide, cerulean blues that had watched him so curiously.

"You okay there, Ed?" His wife asked, "Kind of zoned out for a bit."

He replied with a grin, locking his fingers with hers as he admired the wedding band around a certain digit, "Yeah, just thinking."

"Of?"

"Nothing in particular," He answered truthfully, "Just thinking about how everything feels like a dream right now." As his voice remained light-hearted alongside the smile that had seldom left, Winry came to an understanding and left it at that, all the while reflecting his expression.

It had been how they were since they stood before the officiant that late afternoon; just the two of them mirroring smiles and grins and the love in their eyes. The emotions were so raw that they were difficult to hide, but as it was their day (and every single day after that), Edward and Winry had no reason to do so.

They allowed all to see without a thought, and in return, they received cheers and comments about 'lovebirds' and 'inspiring youth'.

Edward certainly showed quite a tint of red in the beginning; at least until it had hit him that Winry was his wife. The realisation was not exactly overwhelming, but it was still a realisation that caused him to feel a form of giddiness he had never felt before. It reached to the extent of him hugging her from behind whenever he could, and lifting her off the ground just to hear her squeals and the laughter that followed after.

It was strange to think of how he once denied his feelings when they were brought out to light, especially now that he was more than happy to show them off. Though he was young at the time, and his focus was really elsewhere. Besides, a certain question from the then-lieutenant came out unexpectedly and he hadn't even given his friendship with his best friend much of a thought.

But now, at the age of eighteen, Edward Elric was quite the married man who could not have asked for anything better than the woman whose hand he held.

At the thought of the former lieutenant, however. . .

"Hey, Winry," He started, turning his head back to the life of the party, "Have you seen the Captain?"

"You mean Miss Riza?" With the question, Winry followed his searching gaze.

"Yeah."

"I saw her couple of minutes ago with the General, but I don't see them now." The new bride settled herself back into the backrest of her seat, confusion evident in the way she looked at her husband.

"With Mustang, huh?"

* * *

"I swear, sir, if you're planning on doing something stupid-"

"Okay, first of all, it's Roy tonight, Riza. We already talked about this; we're off-duty, attending the wedding of a former comrade. There are no uniforms, no ranks," Making his way up the hill as he tugged on the other's hand, Roy flashed a charming grin, "Just us two: Roy and Riza. Like the old times!"

All the comment earned him was a roll of her eyes.

"And second of all, I promise it isn't anything 'stupid'," Roy continued, "Have a little faith in me, Hawkeye."

Soon enough, they were atop of the mound with a rather breathtaking view before them.

There were the lights at the far bottom of the hill, a crowd of people beneath. The two were not far off from the reception, just isolated enough to not catch anyone's attention unless they were to look towards their direction. And with the full moon that had glowed brightly behind the translucent clouds of the night, nearly as bright as Winry's face did during the ceremony, it was far from difficult for them to see each other.

They remained in the silence for the moment's while, basking in the form of solitude found. But as time came to pass with the spring breeze blowing lightly, Riza stepped closer to the man and leaned into him.

In turn, he merely relaxed an arm around her shoulders and gladly shared his warmth.

They watched as tiny figures danced and conversed, and even chuckled at the sight of (who they presumed was) Havoc tripping on his way to the dance floor. Everything was peaceful, something they both wished to prolong. After all that had happened two years prior, the serenity was welcomed wholeheartedly; not a single doubt within their minds.

"It really takes you back, doesn't it?" In a whisper, Roy spoke through the silence as he kept his attention to the landscape. He felt her nod against his shoulder, and it was enough to have him smiling as he walked through memory lane. "Reminds me of the time when we would sneak out to the hills behind your house."

Riza chuckled, "You always were a bad influence." She told him, freely at that, too.

With a dramatic gasp, Roy shifted his gaze onto her and raised his eyebrows in added effect, "Me? You were the one always dragging me out."

"And who was the one who suggested the idea in the first place?" Riza looked up at him, amusement clearly written all over her features.

Then in comprehension that the rebellious act may have started with him, Roy took a pause as he suddenly felt quite sheepish.

"Exactly." Was the response he heard due to his lack of a reply.

"Doesn't change the fact that you had fun." He muttered straight after.

Although in remembrance of the innocence that they both lived during what felt like a lifetime ago, Roy noted the music that reached them from below. He breathed in deeply, a thumb caressing the exposed skin of her shoulder as he recalled the nights far off from the past.

What they had done on those hills varied; from observing stars to simply talking, enjoying the company of one another. They were young and naïve, not a single line crossed in character of shyness and reticence. As much as others faithfully believed that the man was quite the charmer back then, Riza had known better.

In fact, their first kiss was something uneventful: just his chapped lips against hers under the lamppost.

He almost laughed at the sudden memory, mentally slapping himself for being so clumsy in the way he had handled it. But even so, the girl never brought it up afterwards, saving him from the embarrassment that he stupidly caused as a seventeen-year-old.

Pushing that thought aside, Roy moved back and away from Riza, who had simply graced him with a lost impression. Tendrils of blonde fell from her fascinating up-do, swept back by the zephyr that came by. His own slicked-back hair was ruffled in the process, once again revealing the unruliness of it all. But nevertheless, he gave her a boyish smile, a glint in his gaze as he held out his hand in an invitation for a dance.

"Really?" Riza asked.

"Really." Roy answered.

All he received at first was a stare, consideration obviously running through her mind. He saw the hesitancy, the question as to whether it would have been right and proper of them. But Roy was Roy, and although he would have receded if it were any other occasion, he kept his stance and waited patiently.

Then after the release of a sigh, Riza slipped out of the heels she wore and allowed herself to relish the feel of the earth beneath her feet.

The man could barely hide the grin that broke out, caused by the excitement sent through his nerves. And just as the other took his hand into hers, he promptly pulled her close and revelled in the sound of her laughter as she nearly clashed into his chest, only to be steadied by his hold on the curves of her figure. He saw the wide smile that she was intent on keeping hidden from him; the kind that reached the corners of her eyes and showed her pearly whites, all the while deepening her smile lines. It was the kind that had left him in awe countless of times, his train of thought coming to an abrupt stop as all he could think of was how gorgeous she truly was.

How exquisite she effortlessly made herself to be.

Following the slow rhythm that played in the distance, Roy began to sway them from side to side. His hands were circled around her waist, and her arms had chosen to rest over his shoulders. There was a state of ease in the way she danced with him, her gaze never once leaving his. They lingered within the placidity; not a word spoken as they simply drowned themselves in the sound of music, and in the presence of each other. The quintessence of adoration enveloped them into unity.

With her between his arms, barefoot on the grass, perfection could not have made itself known any better. His heart swelled immensely, committing the moment to his memory alongside their secrets together.

He regarded her warmth through the fabric of her dress, all in contrast to the cold air of spring. There was the way her mouth curved upwards into that subtle smile of hers, the amber hues of her eyes reflecting the moon's light as she sought for his tranquil thoughts.

It was how they were for who knew how long; just the two of them in their own world. It was as if they were living a chapter heard in fairy tales.

"So... Elric's married." Roy started as casually as he could, an act that they were just having another everyday conversation.

Riza then lifted a brow in wonder, but nodded nonetheless and said, "That he is."

"He married his mechanic, who's also a childhood friend of his."

Riza nodded again.

"Someone who supported him and his brother until they reached their goal."

As the woman eased her expression and softened her gaze, Roy watched her come to an understanding. He didn't react, however, in conveyance that everything was an aspect of simplicity. But he knew that she comprehended what he was trying to say- whatever it was- and that he was waiting for her to play along with this game that he had set out.

Strangely enough, he hadn't exactly known what it was himself, despite being the instigator of it all.

"Well, when you put it that way," Riza said, "It does sound like their story came out of a romance novel."

Roy laughed inwardly at the response, "Of course you would know that, considering the amount of times I've caught you reading those kinds of books," Then dropping his voice to nothing more than a whisper, Roy continued with a teasing remark, "Tell me, Lieutenant, how often does a knight in shining armour swoop in to save a damsel-in-distress from the big, bad dragon?"

Without having to wait for a beat, Riza replied, "Not that often, actually. Truth be told, I'm not big on the romance/fantasy genre, so you're just making assumptions at this point, sir."

"Am I?"

"You are. You should know well by now that I'm not one for fairy tales."

"I thought you of all people loved those kinds of stories," Roy paused as he attempted to create a summary of the fantasies that he had heard numerous times before, "A courageous man taking up the stead to save a woman he loves, who then returns his feelings after his brave act, and they live happily ever after."

"Yes, but they make it sound so easy when it's really not- like true love's kiss. What, do they expect me to believe that every curse could be fixed with a single kiss, especially from a person whom they barely know?"

Sighing as he listened, Roy rested his forehead against Riza's and closed his eyes, feeling the brush of her breath across his skin. "I suppose you're right," He said, "Fairy tales are entirely too fictional and fabricated for the dreams of children. It's a wonder as to why you never believed in them."

There was heavy silence afterwards.

"I never got the chance to." He then heard her say.

Bearing the sudden seriousness in her character, Roy felt guilt creep into the corners of his mind and winced within as they stopped dancing. Once again, he spoke without thinking and even if she did not take it to heart, it was still an unnecessary comment. He gave himself the second mental slap of the night, cursing his stupid mouth as he always did whenever he knew that he had said something carelessly.

He moved back slightly, just enough to see the woman's unreadable guise, and was just about to apologise when he felt her left-hand cup his face. She caressed his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb, leaving an invisible track that was nought but felt altogether. He found himself leaning into her touch, the apology in his eyes rather than said.

"If anything," Riza began, "I almost believed in those stories when you came around."

That took him by surprise.

"Oh?"

Riza merely shrugged, "You made things little more bearable."

"So… are you implying that I'm your prince charming?"

The woman chortled at that, lightening the weight Roy had in his chest moments ago, "Being my prince charming suggests that we have a love story."

Roy gave her a deadpan stare, "We don't have a love story?"

"Do we have a love story?" Riza returned.

At that, Roy grimaced and clutched the space as to where his heart would have been. "Ouch. Are you really planning on wounding my poor heart throughout the night?"

Mirth danced along his partner's features, her most beloved smile making an appearance as if it were a gift. "I don't know, haven't decided yet, actually."

Seeing as to how the flower bloomed, Roy stepped back into quietude, obviously admiring the beauty that his gaze beheld. He then took the hand against his cheek and brought her knuckles to his lips, before placing another kiss on her ring finger; lingering there for a while as the two simply looked at each other.

Nothing was said out loud, although so much was heard.

He may have been no prince charming or her knight in shining armour, and she was no damsel-in-distress for him to save. Their lives were far from being a fable of love and happiness, but if Roy Mustang was certain of one thing, it was that they were bound to reach their happy ending- no matter how long it would have taken them to get there.

For now, he had her and that was enough for him to keep going. Everyone knew that he was willing to do so much more than to protect her from the beast, just as how she continued to do so day-by-day. Everything he had to offer was already given, and everything he received from her was kept wholeheartedly. There was nothing between them that required words of explanation.

So, screw the fantasies and fairy tales.

What was the point of being a prince and a damsel-in-distress, when he was the king and she was his queen?


End file.
